The Law of Sowing and Reaping

I've been re-reading Cloud and Townsend's book Boundaries, and this week I had a first-hand illustration of what they call Law #1: The Law of Sowing and Reaping. 

I was putting breakfast on the table one morning and noticed that my son wasn't wearing his glasses.  (Those of you who are regular readers are already groaning!)  In response to my request to don his glasses, Ranita replied, "I don't know where they are."

This was a new one.  Broken I am accustomed to.  MIA?  At 6am?  How can such a thing even be possible?  Do we not put them on the dresser at bedtime?  How do you LOSE them between bedtime and breakfast???

All other thoughts are driven from my mind.  I must find the glasses.  (Not the $35 pair, by the way.  Oh no.  Has to be the $150 pair.  And something tells me my replacement policy discount does NOT include LOST.  Mangled?  Ok.  Lost?  Tough luck.) 

So I begin a modern re-imagining of the parable of the lost coin.  I search everywhere: under the beds, under the couch, in the bedding, in my room, in the bathroom, in the trash . . . you name it, I look.  With each failed attempt, I can feel my blood pressure rising. 

(Meanwhile, both kids are contentedly eating the breakfast I could not think of eating before finding the glasses!)  

In my search I stumble across the new pair of diving goggles Grammy and Pop bought for Ranita.  The goggles he adores.  The Law of Sowing and Reaping blazes across my eyes:  "Rescuing a person from the natural consequences of his behavior enables him to continue in irresponsible behavior." 

I take a calming breath.  "Ranita," I say in a conversational voice, "I am going to take your goggles and put them on the fridge until you find your glasses.  You can wear your spare pair until then.  I will not look for your others.  It is your responsibility to find them." 

If I expected a tantrum, I was mistaken.  He replies, "Okay." 

Suddenly all my frustration dissipates.  I am no longer carrying a burden I don't deserve.  The glasses are his, after all.  He always knows where his stuffed animals are . . . and definitely where his goggles are . . . he can keep track of his glasses.

The glasses--and goggles--are forgotten until after lunch when I announce, "Let's go swimming!"

Ranita wants his goggles.  (Aha!)

I quietly remind him of our agreement: glasses in exchange for goggles.  All at once he is in a dither, checking under furniture and amid toys and in every place he can consider.  He crawls under his bed to search when I remember that I hadn't pulled out the plastic bin with Chinchita's next-size-up hand-me-downs in it.  I do so.

Ranita squeals in delight.  He emerges with the glasses, sporting an ear-to-ear grin.  We high-five.  I review his success in responsibility and assert that it feels great to take care of your own business. 

He gets his goggles back.

That night I reflected on The Law of Sowing and Reaping.  When I was growing up, "You reap what you sow" usually came at the end of a tale of woe, reminding you that bad things follow poor decisions.  However, the reverse is also true: good things generally follow wise decisions.

When Ranita embraced his responsibility for locating his own possessions, he got more than his goggles as a reward.  He gained a sense of pride in his accomplishment, something he would never have experienced had I found the glasses for him.  (I also suspect he learned that keeping track of his glasses in the first place is easier than hunting them down after the fact!) 

As for Mommy, she learned how much more pleasant life is when you let other people shoulder their own responsibilities in their own way.  I enjoyed a pretty peaceful day while the glasses were missing because they weren't my problem.  When Ranita found them, it was one of the proudest moments of my life.  I was so impressed by his determination to locate them as well as his obvious pride in doing so.  (I was a bit proud of myself as well, for giving him the opportunity to succeed!) 

Not a bad harvest at all, if you ask me.